


Names Are Like Scars

by VampireNaomi



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireNaomi/pseuds/VampireNaomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romano and Prussia are enjoying a short vacation in southern Italy when Prussia does something to catch Romano off guard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Names Are Like Scars

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for **mezzogiornovargas** in the Prumano Secret Santa. The prompt was Prussia referring to Romano by his real name.
> 
> A million thanks to **pengychan** for helping me out with the Italian details in this story!

An old car was bumping along the narrow country road, occasionally letting out sounds that made Romano wonder if it was going to make it to their destination in one piece. But he'd known it'd be like this because he remembered every nook and cranny in the southern part of the country as if he'd mapped them himself. That was why he had picked this piece of junk of car for this trip, even though Prussia had whined about wanting to test his brand new Alfa Romeo.

It wasn't that they absolutely had to take this lonely road in the middle of nowhere. There was a nice hotel in the town they had just passed. But where there was a hotel, there were tourists. Normally, Romano liked to hang out with people who came to look at his sights, but he didn't think he'd make a good impression on the ladies in his current company, so what was the point?

“Whoa!” Prussia yelped when the car jolted as they drove into a deep hole. “Watch where you're going! Maybe we should turn back.” 

“Stop whining. The road's fine. Your spoiled ass just can't take a few bumps.”

“If we had stayed in town, we could already be sitting in shade and having some cold beer.” Prussia underlined his words with an attempt to fan himself with his T-shirt. Now that the sun was getting ready to set, the car no longer felt like a sauna, but they were both sticky and uncomfortable. The air conditioning had got busted some time after they had left Naples in the morning, so the journey had been torturous.

“There's a better place this way. It's only a few more kilometres.”

“Yeah? It had better have a pool! What is it anyway? You got a secret mansion in the countryside or what?”

“Tch, that's more Veneziano's style.”

“I hope it at least has electricity.”

“Of course it does! Has Veneziano been feeding you some lies about how my place is some undeveloped dung heap?”

“What? No! Sheesh, can't you take a joke? You've been really uptight all day.”

Romano grimaced in response, though most of his annoyance was directed at himself. Yeah, he'd been acting like an asshole for most of the day. Part of it was because of the air conditioning – they had had to stop the car at noon and wait for the sun to go a little down before they'd been able to continue, so they were running late. The first day of their short holiday was already almost over before they had even made it to his country house. And part was because he was nervous that the whole weekend might be a disaster, and he always got cranky and off-putting when he was under stress.

But that was nothing new. As much as he liked to yell at others and blame them for everything, he knew he was his own worst enemy. If anything went wrong, it would probably be his fault.

“I'm hungry,” he grumbled because he knew it was an excuse Prussia would buy.

“Me, too! We should have dinner when we arrive.”

Romano let out a vague sound of agreement. It was still too early for that, but he decided to let it slide. One of the few things they had in common was that eating always made them feel better, and he'd do anything to salvage the rest of the day.

A couple of minutes later, they finally arrived at their destination, a small house in the countryside. Romano had had it for almost a century and had been repairing and improving it every couple of decades, just enough to keep it from collapsing in on itself. It was a never-ending project for him, and he only needed to take one look at the shed to know that it needed a new roof. Maybe later in the autumn.

They got out of the car, and Romano busied himself with picking up their bags on the back seat while Prussia stared at the house. He wanted to see his reaction, but he tried to act like he didn't care.

Click!

“What are you doing?” he asked when he noticed that Prussia had taken a photo of the house with his phone.

“I'm sending this to West. This is straight out of those Italy picture books he loves. He'll be so jealous I get to stay here!”

Romano snorted. “Yeah, right. I bet he only has books about Veneziano's place.”

“Nah, the whole deal. He's crazy about your stuff.”

“Ugh, I don't need to know that!”

“Why are you surprised? I mean, you're just as much –” But Prussia never finished that because he noticed the tree that was growing right next to the two-story house, almost reaching up to the red-tiled roof.

“Come and help me carry the bags!” Romano yelled at him.

“But there are figs here!”

“You can have some later!”

Romano searched for his keys and pushed open the front door. It was cooler inside, and he let out a sigh of relief as he put down the bags. He loved the house, which was why he didn't come there often. These days, he didn't get as much time off as he would have liked, and he didn't want to bring his laptop or any paperwork to what had become his secret getaway from all the shit he had to deal with.

Prussia, having already grown bored of the fig tree, joined him inside. He took a long look at the interior, which mostly consisted of old bricks, mortar and irregular stones, all from different decades.

Romano huffed. “If you don't like it, you can always walk back to town and get a room at that hotel.”

“Nah, it's cool. Kind of nostalgic. I used to hang out in monasteries a lot when I was a kid.”

Right, he should have guessed. Romano felt a little bad about getting so defensive. “You go and take a seat in the kitchen. I'm going to make us dinner, and I'm not letting you go anywhere before you're so full you've got food coming out of your ears.”

“I hope it's something good! I'm starving!”

Romano followed Prussia to the kitchen and began to search around the cupboards for what he needed. “Have I ever fed you anything bad?”

“How about that stuff we had in Rome last time? What was it again?”

“That wasn't bad! You Germanics just have shitty taste. But I'll train that out of you. A decade or two of olive oil, good cheese and garlic will do wonders.” To illustrate his words, Romano pulled out the three bulbs of garlic they had bought on their way.

Prussia made a displeased face. “I can't eat all that.”

“And why not?”

“Because if I do, you'll complain that I stink and won't kiss me!”

“What do you know? I love garlic, stupid!” Romano turned away in haste and pretended that he was searching for something in their grocery basket. The relationship was still fresh enough that he couldn't let Prussia know how much he liked him without feeling embarrassed. It'd become natural eventually, but it was taking longer than usual. He'd never dated a Germanic nation before, and there were things he needed to get used to – such as that Prussia sometimes didn't get what he meant if he didn't actually say it in those exact words.

But it wasn't a one-sided problem. Since the start of this brief holiday, Romano had had the feeling that something was up with Prussia. More than once, it had appeared like there was something he wanted to say, but he had always changed the topic at the last moment or pretended that he was distracted by something.

Normally, Prussia had no problem letting even the most idiotic crap flow from his mouth, so Romano was a little wary of what it was that he had to say. It was either going to be something so sappy that it embarrassed him, or something serious that was hard for him to talk about.

All the more reason for him to get them something good to eat. Maybe it'd then be easier for him to stop ruining the mood with his crankiness, and maybe then Prussia would say what he had on his mind.

The kitchen was disproportionally large in comparison to the rest of the house, but Romano liked that. He'd renovated a few times over the past decades, most recently a couple of years ago when he'd replaced the old stove with an electric one. The dark, wooden furniture had come with the house and was covered in scratches and blemishes from use. Romano always painted the walls with a pale, creamy colour to keep the kitchen from getting too dark.

Even though it was a while since he had last been there, he could remember exactly what cupboard to open to find the utensils he needed. Not before long, he had two pots on the stove, one with water for spaghetti and the other with olive oil, garlic, pepper and the clams they'd bought at the last supermarket they'd come across.

“I keep the plates in that cupboard behind you. Can you get them?” he asked and began to tidy up the counter where he had worked. Normally, he didn't care that much, but he knew he wouldn't feel like cleaning up after they had eaten, much less in the morning.

When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that Prussia was still sitting at the table, staring at him.

“Hey!” he snapped. “Didn't you hear what I said?”

“Huh?”

Romano rolled his eyes and walked past Prussia, pressing his hand against his forehead on his way. “Did your brain get cooked in the sun or what? I told you to get the plates.”

“Oh, right, sorry! I was a little busy.”

“Busy with what? I'm the one who's doing all the work here.” Romano brought plates and glasses to the table, then forks and napkins.

“You know...” Prussia said, grinning and leaning back on his chair. “Just enjoying myself. I mean, I get invited to other nations' houses all the time, but it's still pretty special here! With the cute you!”

Romano supposed that the nervous cackle that accompanied the words was supposed to be charming. He'd always known that Prussia, just like all the other Germanic nations, was incapable of anything romantic by nature, so he didn't fault him for sounding like an idiot. At least he was trying. And stupidly enough, Romano had discovered that Prussia's awkward attempts made him feel warm and happy, like they were fucking sonnets. 

“Tch, you're being incoherent. You need food,” he grumbled.

Prussia shifted on his seat. “But, you know, the awesome me didn't mean just that it's nice to be here. It's more like...” But then he drifted off again, like he had done many times during the day. It was starting to get irritating, and Romano decided he'd pull the words out of him later when they were feeling mellow after dinner. Food always brought Prussia's defences down a little.

To advance on that path – _not_ because he wanted to make him happy! – he gave Prussia most of the clams once the spaghetti was ready. They ate and talked, and with each bite, Romano felt the stress of the day slide off his shoulders until he thought he had been silly to get so worked up over the smallest things.

“You want more?” he asked when Prussia put down his fork.

“Nah, I'm done. Wow, that was good. I hope your bedroom is downstairs because I don't feel like climbing any stairs right in a long time!”

“There's a tiny guestroom around the corner. You can bunk there.”

“Guestroom? What about you?”

“What do you think? In the bedroom upstairs.”

“But... but I wanted to sleep with you! In the same bed! There's nobody to see here, so you have no reason to be get all embarrassed and weird about it, like when we're at a hotel after a conference!”

Romano gave Prussia a small kick under the table. “I'm not weird! You're the one who acts like a love-struck puppy, and I'm just trying to keep you at bay. But anyway, of course you're coming up with me. I was just kidding, sheesh. Didn't know you were that slow.”

“Pfft, you're just hard to deal with. Like a keg of gunpowder. If I'm not careful and throw my cigarette butt at you, everything might blow up.”

Typical, Romano thought. Just like Prussia to have his head so deep stuck in the past that he couldn't come up with a better comparison.

“Do we have dessert?” Prussia asked.

“Didn't you just say you're full?”

“Yeah, but dessert is different! Have we got anything?”

It was no secret that Prussia had a sweet tooth, so Romano had hidden some home-made pie in their grocery basket. He wasn't very good at saying that he cared and wanted him to have a great time, so he hoped things like that would get the message across.

“Sure, I took this from home so that it wouldn't go bad while I'm away,” he said and began to search for a knife so that he could cut them both a piece. “Let's go upstairs and have some figs, too. We can pick them from the bedroom window.”

“Yeah! That sounds like fun!” And just like that, Prussia forgot he hadn't wanted to take the stairs only a moment ago.

Romano had a few people from town visit the house every now and then and look after it, so the rooms were free of dust and the usual clutter even though he hadn't been there for a while. The shutters of his bedroom windows were closed, leaving the room dim even though the sun hadn't set yet.

“It's cooler here than I thought,” Prussia said and went to the window. He opened it and then struggled a moment with the hook on it. Finally, he got it free and pushed the shutters open to let some light inside.

“Maybe you shouldn't have left your hat in the car,” Romano pointed out.

“You kidding? I have no idea why you made me wear it. It made me look uncool.”

“To hide your face so that everyone wouldn't see me hanging out with you!”

“Haha, yeah, I guess it wouldn't be nice to make them all jealous! But there's nobody here to see us now, so what's the fuss?” Prussia pushed his head out the window as he spoke and reached for the closest fig.

“Make sure you only pick the ripe ones,” Romano said and squeezed himself by Prussia's side, hoping to avoid the question. He'd picked an old straw hat at his apartment, pushed it down on Prussia's head and told him they weren't going anywhere if he didn't keep it on. Despite having lived for centuries, Prussia was still cocky enough to think he could face the southern sun without a care in the world. The result was always the same, Romano no longer felt like mocking him for it.

When Prussia burned, his skin turned screaming red, making it look like he had been cooked alive, and eventually peeled off. Romano hated watching him try to hide his pained grimaces and laugh off his attempts of forcing him to lather himself with sunblock. He wanted Prussia to have a great time when he came to see his half of the country, not get scorched to a crisp because he was dumb and arrogant and never learned. Nations weren't supposed to burn that badly anyway.

He just wasn't sure if he should mention that. Prussia might think he saw him as weak, or that he was being an annoying know-it-all just because they were on his land.

“Should we peel this?” Prussia asked.

“I'll do it.” Romano took the fig from Prussia and sat down on the bed with the knife he had brought from the kitchen. He could have just folded the fig into two with his fingers, but it wasn't yet so ripe that it would have been necessary.

Once finished, he put the fig down on the plate with their pieces of pie. Prussia was still at the window.

“Come and eat this one before you pick another. I don't want them to go to waste if you decide you don't like them.”

“I'm not picking any more.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Just enjoying your scenery! Real nice!”

“W-what? Don't be stupid!” Romano tossed a pillow at Prussia's back. While he was technically his people and not the land, humans felt such a strong connection to it that it was hard to see the distinction. There was something very him about lines of tiny trees and bushes slithering along otherwise bare hills, old houses standing so close it was hard to squeeze between them, and cars, mopeds and pedestrians navigating around each other in the streets in chaotic harmony. To think that Prussia had probably been looking at such views all the way from Naples was embarrassing and flattering at the same time.

“Come here and eat your damn fig,” he said and walked to the window to drag Prussia from it, but the other wouldn't budge. “There's nothing out there anyway!”

“You kidding? Don't you like looking at the sun disappear behind those hills? I mean, those vineyards are really cool in that golden light!”

Romano snorted in a way that he hoped masked his happy embarrassment with disgust. “The hell? That sucked. Have you been snooping around your brother's self-help books for idiots?”

“Of course not! I'm not that lame! And don't you Mediterranean nations like romantic stuff like that? That's what France always says.”

“He only has some coastline and an island that shouldn't rightly even be his! He doesn't count as one of us. And... and what was that anyway? You trying to make me all flustered by telling me how nice my land looks like or what?”

“You aren't into that?”

“That's not what I said! It's, uh... okay, I guess, but I'm not used to hearing that from you, so I don't know how to react! Don't confuse me, dammit!” Romano was glad that the sun had nearly set by now so that the heat he could feel on his face wasn't clearly visible. Fuck, why did he have to get so flustered every time someone said something nice to him?

“You know what's the best fix for that?”

“What?”

“The awesome me impressing you with more of my charm so that you realise it's a natural part of me! Just you wait until you hear what other stuff I've got lined up!”

“As long as it's not anything too stupid. I've got standards.”

Prussia chuckled. “Yeah, why else would you be going out with me?” He grabbed Romano's hand and pulled him to the window with him. There wasn't much light left outside, but Romano supposed Prussia had a point – it was a nice view. And knowing that Prussia enjoyed something that was part of him made him satisfied and happy and like he didn't need to hide his nervousness with so many cusses.

They hadn't been dating for long, but Romano had already realised they both had trouble taking the initiative. He because he was afraid of being pushed away and Prussia because he was a dork who couldn't do anything right if it didn't involve a weapon. The first time they had had sex had been one of the most humiliating experiences of his life.

He felt bolder now when they were in his home and after Prussia had tried so hard to compliment him. This time, he forced his doubts down and stepped closer to kiss him. It wasn't like it could be worse than what they'd already been through.

But before he could, Prussia spoke again, and Romano froze in such surprise that he didn't even worry that he had to look like an idiot with his lips pursed stupidly.

“Wow, coming here was such a great idea! I really like Italian stuff, and yours is the best! But I guess that's no surprise since you're Italy and all!”

“What did you just call me?”

“Italy! But I guess if you don't like that –”

 _Now_ Romano kissed him, with eagerness that he normally only managed when he was angry. He wanted to show him that he did indeed like being called that and to give himself a moment to put together his thoughts. 

Prussia had called him Italy. That never happened. Most people tended to forget that they represented the country equally, and when they did remember, they usually decided to call his brother Veneziano. Nobody ever called Romano Italy.

“Whoa! Did it turn you on this much?” Prussia asked with a grin, but Romano grabbed his cheeks and squeezed them together so that he couldn't talk.

“Shut your face,” he said. “Except if you're going to do it again.”

He couldn't understand a word of Prussia's answer, so he figured that silencing him with his hands had been a touch too effective. He let go, and the insufferable grin came back.

“I can do that.” Prussia gave him a shove towards the bed, and they tumbled down on it, barely avoiding the fig and the pie that both fell to the floor.

“Do it right,” Romano said. “Not casually like just now.”

“That was just a strategic first move that left me room to retreat if you didn't like it. I mean, I thought you might snap and push me out the window.”

“Yeah, right. That's too much work. But then why'd you do it?” It couldn't be just a spur of the moment thing. Romano realised that this was what Prussia had been trying to do all day, but it wasn't until now that he'd got the name out.

“Just felt like something I should do, at least once. Names matter. Just look at me; I go by my old name because I want to. And when I got here, it just felt right, you know? Like you're somehow more of a presence when we're here.”

“Of course I am. All of this is me, dumbass.” Some days, Romano could almost feel the people breathe with him and hear the flow of their blood in their veins. It was familiar and safe, even if carrying his people's weight had also proven painful countless time. Nothing in the world could have been more natural. He was Italy, just like his brother, even if nobody called him that.

But he guessed he couldn't blame Prussia for thinking he might take it badly. He hated being compared with his brother. The name Italy was attached to Veneziano, and sometimes he truly resented him for taking it, and himself for letting him. His heart was in Rome; if only one of them was called Italy, it should have been him. However, deep down he knew that he had been afraid of not living up to the name; that he wasn't good enough and that everyone would look at him and wonder why he was Italy and not his brother.

He climbed to sit on Prussia's thighs and pushed him down on the bed, feeling bold. He kissed him and savoured the surprised sound Prussia let out before he responded. The other's hands travelled up to Romano's back and pulled him closer, and his breath was hot against his ear as he rasped his name – his real name – to him, again and again.

Maybe it was because they were deep in his part of the country, or because he had always craved for recognition, but being called Italy was gratifying, like he'd been walking all day in uncomfortable shoes before getting to take them off and running barefoot on a cool cobblestone street. He could have drowned in that feeling.

“No sex right after dinner,” he said, realising that he didn't want to go too far. The kisses and touches and the warmth of Prussia's body were inviting, but eating well always left him lazy. All he wanted was to nap side by side.

“Yeah,” Prussia agreed and placed one last kiss on his throat.

Romano rolled to his side so that he was no longer on top of Prussia. The bed was wide enough for two to get comfortable. A long time ago, he had planned to share it with Veneziano when he came over, but his brother didn't like staying in the southern part of the country for too long.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, willing himself to relax and enjoying the feeling of not having to do anything more but lie there. His lips were still prickling, and he scooted a little closer to Prussia, hoping that he'd take the hint and lean against him.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Prussia turned to look at him. “Hey, that's okay. I wasn't really in the mood either. I ate so much spaghetti that I might have thrown it all up if things had got active, and that's not sexy!”

“That's not what I meant!”

“Then what do you mean?”

“Like you don't know. That I've been such an asshole. You don't have to laugh it all off. Just tell me to go to hell every time you feel like it.”

“You don't have to say that! Like the awesome me would just take shit from anyone! I've got tough skin, and you're mostly bark and no bite anyway. If you want to learn some real spiteful things to say, go live with Austria for a while!”

“Tch, I guess that's where Veneziano gets it from, then. He spent too long with that fucker.”

“What, are you shitting me? He's super cute! He never says anything mean.”

“You're just too dumb to get it when he insults you to your face. But he doesn't mean it. He's dumb, too, and doesn't realise that he shouldn't say everything out loud.”

“Haha, you really think _you're_ the right guy to give that kind of advice to anyone? Didn't you just say you're an asshole?”

Romano snorted at the back of his throat. “Just trying to make sure you know what's up. I guess I was a little prickly because I thought you might not like it here. A lot of people don't.” And Prussia's opinion mattered way more to him than some random fuckers', so it was twice as stressful.

“You think I would have been all over you and calling you Italy and stuff if I didn't like this? I love it! Warm places with good food are the best!”

That was the closest Prussia had ever come to telling him that he loved him. Romano wished it didn't make him feel so good because, fuck it, he hadn't lived for so long only to turn into mush over a few trite words, spoken by a Germanic nation with second-rate ideas of romance. He was just embarrassing.

“Uh, about that... You know, I really, really don't want to do it, but if it's important to you, I guess I can call you Germany some time. I mean, you and your brother are sort of like us, so –”

“Whoa, no! I don't need that! That's West's name, and I don't want it. I've got enough of my own, and they're all great.”

“Good. I'd feel pretty disgusted to do it.”

“But you would if I asked?”

“I already said that I would!”

Prussia laughed and threw his arm over him. “That's pretty cute. What else would you do if I asked? I saw this porn flick once where they –”

“Don't push it!”

“I didn't even say what it was!”

“I don't care! There's nothing sexual about you calling me Italy. It just made me happy.”

“Then I'll do it all the time!”

“Shit, no. Then everyone would ask you if you're accidentally dating the wrong one of us, or if you're just using me so that you can pretend you're with Veneziano or some crap. To most of them, I'm not Italy, and they'd get all stupid about it.”

“They have no problem calling me Prussia even though I'm technically something else these days.”

“Yeah, but were Prussia for a long time. Everyone's used to it. Just like they're used to Veneziano being Italy. It's been like that for centuries.” Romano let out a puff of breath. “It's not like it bothers me that much. Romano is a good name. It shows everyone that I got a lot of Granpa's junk. I just wish more people remembered I'm _Italy_ Romano.”

“I do, and you didn't even have to prompt me. But I guess I'm just great like that.”

“Hmph.”

“Hehe, that means you agree but just don't want to admit it!”

“Like you know me that well yet.”

“You still haven't denied anything.” 

“Hmph!”

Prussia laughed and patted his stomach, mercifully dropping the subject. “Hey, where did you put that fig? I feel like eating it now!”

“Probably fell to the floor, unless you're lying on top of it. Go get another one and I'll peel it for you.”

Prussia sat up, the old bed creaking when he moved, but then he fell back down again. “I changed my mind. I'll have some for breakfast. Now I want to lie here and have a nap. You in?”

“If you don't keep me up with your loud-ass snoring, sure.”

“The awesome me doesn't snore! And even if I did, nothing ever wakes you up anyway. If I try to get you up in the middle of the night, you just kick me and roll over.”

Romano put his hand over Prussia's mouth. “You talk too much. I want to get some rest.” In hindsight, he realised that having dinner early hadn't been such a bad idea. They could doze for a couple of hours, get back up to enjoy the rest of the night together and sleep for as long as they liked in the morning. He couldn't imagine a much better start to a vacation.

Satisfied that Prussia would be quiet for a while, he removed his hand and wiggled into a more comfortable position on the bed. It just happened that this brought him a little closer to Prussia, but the other's brain seemed to function for a change, and he made no mention of it, as if he also wanted to savour the instance and not ruin it.

Like everyone else, Romano had had many names over the years. Most of them were no longer relevant, but they'd never fade entirely, and every now and then he felt a familiar prick of emotion associated with them when his people's thoughts and politics shifted, or when another nation acknowledged his history. Being called Italy was especially nice; it was the same as being told he was just as good and important as his brother.

Romano closed his eyes, feeling more relaxed than he could remember in a long time.


End file.
